


It's the Great Pumpkin Affair

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon is missing and Illya is in search of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlintheglen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/gifts).



> This was written for an impromptu challenge on Section VII (section7mfu) over on Live Journal.

Illya finally made his way to the farthest corner of the immense pumpkin patch right off Old Rook Road.  At least the homing device was telling him his missing partner was somewhere nearby. There was some sort of interference and he was unable to pinpoint the exact location

It hit him suddenly in the pit of his stomach; was Napoleon buried alive...was he even alive? That thought horrified the Russian. He couldn't lose his best friend and partner like this. Such an ignominious end.

"NO!" He said aloud."Napoleon is alive, I just know it."

Where to start? None of the orange orbs looked as though they'd been disturbed, much less the ground. Leave it to THRUSH...if it were them, to manage such a feat.

He walked in circles, yelling his frustration. That's when he heard it, the muffled sound of a human voice, but from where?

“NAPOLEON!” Kuryakin shouted at the top of his lungs.

_“MMMMM MMMM!”_

He heard it for sure, but where?”

“Napoleon keep making that sound so I can find you!”

_“MM MMM.”_

Illya quirked his head, that sounded like an ‘okay.”

“I need more than that my friend. Continuous sound please?”

_“MM MMM MMM MMM MMM MM MMM MMMMM MMMMM MMMMM.. MMMM MM MMMMMMM MM MMMMMM MM MMM MMMMMMMMMMM MMMM MMMMMMMM.”_

Illya scratched his head with a brief smile. It sounded like the American National Anthem...hummed off key.

As he kept circling, he finally found it, the sound was coming from within a rather large pumpkin. There was a round hole drilled into it, most likely for air.

“Napoleon?”

_“MMM?”_

“I am here my friend and will have you free in no time.”

_“MMMMM MM!”_

Somehow the Russian knew what Solo was saying.

“I will hurry as fast as I can.” Illya pulled his throwing knife hidden in the back of the neckline of his shirt and began to carve away at the top of the pumpkin.  When a lid was formed, he lifted it and shined his small flashlight inside.

“Napoleon?”

_“MMMM MMMMM MM MM.”_

Solo’s mouth was covered with a piece of duct tape. He was dirty, disheveled and in need of shave, but at least he appeared unharmed.

Illya tore at the pumpkin, cutting and ripping it apart until Napoleon’s head was free. In one quick movement he pulled away the duct tape.

_“Owwww, good grief that hurt!”_

“Oh you would have rathered I had done it excruciatingly slow?”

_“No not exactly.”_

“Napoleon are you injured?”

_“No, just buried up to my neck, that’s all. I feel like the ‘Great Pumpkin’ right now. Would you please, please scratch my nose? It’s been itching...forever. And will you crouch down, I can’t exactly look up at you, Wow, you’re like a giant from my perspective, considering..._

Illya chuckled,  wondering if his partner were channeling ‘Charlie Brown.’

He’d never been called a giant before. “And here it comes,” he anticipated the ball, or the pumpkin to drop, waiting for one of his partner’s smart remarks. (and it arrived as expected)

_“...how short you really are.”_

“Would you like me to leave you here with a fresh pumpkin over your head my friend? I could very easily do that.”

_“No..no, no. I would much prefer being extricated and post haste please...now really, could you just scratch my nose?”_

“I don’t know, maybe I could, maybe not,” Illya snickered.

 _“Please, with raspberry jelly on top?_ ” Napoleon whined. “ _I’ll buy you dinner when we get back to New York?”_

“Oh all right, when you put it that way,” Illya complied and listened while Solo moaned a deeply satisfied _‘ahhhhh.’._

Kuryakin finally began to dig, though it was slow going. To his surprise, the American was wearing only his boxer shorts, and those were filthy from the moist soil. He lifted the man from the hole with a groan.

“How may I ask did you end up like this my friend? Was it THRUSH?”

_“I wish. They would have probably just put me out of my misery...you see there was this girl I met at the Harvest dance in town…”_

“Enough said!” Illya held up his hand in protest. “One day a woman will be the death of you Napoleon Solo.”

 _“You’re probably right tovarisch, but what a way to go,”_ Napoleon flashed a grin.

“And was this situation in line with that sort of thinking?” Illya asked.

_“Well, no not quite….and don’t roll your eyes at me.”_

  
It was too late, Kuryakin had already done so….

 


End file.
